


the ghost you left behind

by Zimtlein



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Compilation What Compilation, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimtlein/pseuds/Zimtlein
Summary: “What would you have done?” she continued, almost sounding breathless, making his stomach twist. “If there had been enough time – what would you have done?”





	the ghost you left behind

One day Midgar would be rebuilt. Never to its former glory – but then again, Midgar had always been a life-sucking hellhole. Just months ago, rubble and ashes had littered the city. Fittingly so. Back then he had heard hushed voices wondering how the sky could be so blue. Back then he had remembered her face from so long ago. The first time she saw the night sky. She had known stars from books, from photographs and illustrations. She had known their names. She told him later on that the Great Bear looked nothing like a bear to her. Her eyes had lit up. Many eyes had lit up at the sight. But it was different. She had seen beauty. They had seen ruins, coated with dust. A bright sky couldn’t make up for what Sephiroth had done, for what people had lost. But they were alive. Maybe that was more than enough.

They had started with the first sector. Reeve was a better leader than anyone could have expected. At least he hadn’t been the only one who still had hope. The planet was saved. Doomsday was evaded. Sephiroth was defeated. It was good. Great, even. They were alive, well and alive, and someday they’d manage to feel alive again, too. Surely. In the meantime, Midgar rose from its ashes. New buildings and hundreds of hands to help. Reeve had told them that the city would never be the same. Never that imposing, that awe-inspiringly tremendous. They neither had the time nor the necessary means to bring it back to life. Not in that way. Nobody had complained.

Sector Seven had become something like his home, somewhere in the past. Now all that was left was a pile of nothingness. There was no one who missed it. The pungent smell, the dim lights. When he had asked Tifa, she had looked at him for some seconds. Reopening her bar? That was in the past. Drunk old men, their desperation lingering in their words – did he really want that? Did he need to hold onto the past that badly? No, he didn’t. Really, honestly. He couldn’t tell if she understood. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she hadn’t. Even Elmyra had smiled at him, lips pressed tightly together in an attempt to hide what she was feeling. She would stay in Kalm. Parts of Sector Two were forever lost, after all. Parts of herself too. That he understood.

It wasn’t easy to think about. It was even harder to put into words. He was no noble hero, nor a tragic one. There was no one left to save but himself. Only a few could fathom it. Only a few knew that he wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s savior after all.

He had a feeling that if there had been just a bit more time, months, weeks, maybe days – she would have cracked the surface. Let him be what he really needed to be. No hero, no savior, just him. But now it was already too late.

Maybe.

He looked at her. She didn’t seem to notice. She was crouching down, her dress flowing over dust-coated rubble. He felt the absurd urge to tell her that her clothes would get dirty. A breeze danced over his skin, the smell of wild flowers tickling his nose. She fit into the image. Her dress was as bright as the petals surrounding her, their vines climbing over ashes and dust, their leaves adorning rocks. His mouth felt dry.

She had always been the one to make the first step.

“It’s really dumb, but I kinda miss Sector Five.”

It wasn’t dumb. Or maybe it was. Like him missing his own prison. She belonged out there. She belonged under a bright sky and in a warm breeze. But he didn’t know how to tell her.

“The church, most of all.” She smiled at him. It made his heart skip a beat. “Because without it, we might have never got to know each other, right?”

Bitterness climbed up his throat, suddenly and venomously. “And you might have never died.”

She drew her eyebrows together. “You don’t like seeing the positive in things, do you?”

“It’s just the truth.”

“The truth is, I am here. Right now. So stop being gloomy.” Her frown deepened. “It’s annoying.”

He stared. She stared back. Somehow, he wanted to laugh. Somehow he didn’t. In the end it was her who let out a small sigh.

“I prefer dorky Cloud over serious Cloud, you know.”

He almost chocked in surprise. “I am not dorky.”

“Oh, you aren’t?” She blinked. “But you look so cute when you blush.”

“I don’t blush.” His cheeks started to feel warmer by the second.

“See? You do. Cute.”

“I am not – god, Aerith.”

“What? You are dorky and cute. Nothing to be ashamed of.” She grinned, showing a row of teeth. “That’s why I like you, after all.”

How could she be so blunt? How could she say such things without batting an eyelash? He sighed deeply and crouched down next to her, his embarrassment making him look strictly away from her. “Is that why you came back?” he whispered.

It became silent. From the corners of his eyes, he could see her swaying her head a little until she leaned it on her hand. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I don’t know why I am here.”

He didn’t either. He didn’t even know what to feel. He should have been happy. He should have been brave enough to utter words he had carried in his heart for months, unable to tell them to the person they belonged to. But he wasn’t. He stayed silent. Like he always had.

“I just know that I am glad,” she continued. “Glad to see you. I missed you.”

He had missed her too. Like crazy. Like his heart was going to be ripped out the moment he saw her die. Like he wanted to dive after her and bring her back. Like right now. He missed her, her voice and her touch. He missed the thousands of moments and thousands of possibilities.

“You know … You not saying anything is making me nervous.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

He couldn’t run any longer. He looked at her. Green eyes stared back solemnly. She was beautiful in the afternoon sun. She always had been. He wanted to reach out to her and didn’t. She didn’t move either.

“Tell me,” she said. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

He couldn’t. He didn’t know how to. He feared that one wrong touch, one wrong word would make her disappear like the fever dream she seemed to be. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips a pale pink. More alive than she had ever looked like. There was nothing left to be afraid of. Yet why did it feel like his throat was sore and dry? Why was it so hard to finally do what he had longed to do for so long?

She was about to look away, something shining in her eyes. A glimpse of disappointment, even shame – whatever it was, it finally led him to say something, anything.

“I don’t know how to do it.”

She shot him a questioning look.

“How to tell you …” He stumbled over words. It was difficult to catch himself again. But Aerith waited like she always had. “How to even talk to you after … After watching you die and knowing it was my fault, how to …”

“Cloud,” she whispered.

“How to even look at you. How to tell you what happened to us, to me, how to tell you about everything you deserve to know –”

“Zack told me a lot.”

A laugh escaped his lips. It sounded dull even to his own ears. “He did, huh.”

“We forgive you. We forgive you because none of it was your fault to begin with.”

He didn’t know what to say.

“Because you were only another piece of the puzzle. Because you only did what you had to do so you wouldn’t break apart.”

He didn’t know how to tell her that oftentimes, he still felt like a broken puppet.

“Listen to me.” She came closer. Her dress got dirty, but she didn’t seem to care. He almost jumped when her small hands touched his cheeks and forced him to look at her. She seemed so fragile. It was absurd. Everything about her was power and strength. Yet her fingers danced over his skin in a soft caress. It made him want to hold her and never let go, to protect her from anything and everything. “You can’t change the past. What happened, happened. But you can change your future. We can change our futures, together. Until you feel whole again.”

He wanted to touch her so badly. He didn’t dare to. Her fingers felt warm on his cheeks. She was about to let go of him. He caught her hand before she could. It almost felt like a sin. This simple touch alone caused goosebumps to climb over his arms. Every heartbeat echoed in his ears.

“We’ve got time. All the time we need, right?”

It didn’t make sense for him to say something like this. It didn’t make sense for him to hope. Yet he did. Aerith smiled, softly, longingly, her hand still lingering on his cheek, her fingers curling a bit. Trying to hold onto him or to make him stay where he was, he didn’t know.

“All the time to make up for what we missed out on,” she confirmed.

Looking at her was overwhelming. The way her eyes searched for something in his, silently asking for answers he didn’t have.

“What would you have done?” she continued, almost sounding breathless, making his stomach twist. “If there had been enough time – what would you have done?”

He would have showed her everything. The most beautiful places he knew. He would have told her stories about the real him. He would have listened to the way she laughed when he’d told her how embarrassing he had been. And weak. And cowardly. And she’d have told him that it wasn’t so. She’d have told him that it was okay, and that she liked him the way he was, and that everything would be okay. Because it would.

“Tell me,” she said.

But words failed him. So he let go of her hand. He leaned forward. Slowly, giving her time to back away, giving her all the time she deserved. He didn’t allow himself to think anymore. He only felt her warmth as he came closer, her breath on his cheek, he saw the way her eyes closed, the way her eyelids trembled ever so slightly.

Her lips touched his.

This was what he would have done. Ignoring his hammering heart, how his hands shook as he reached for her cheek. Tasting the sweetness of her soft lips. Worrying about her stiffness for a moment until she gave in, almost desperately so, pressing her lips against his, further and further until he almost had to hold her back. They parted for a second. His head was swirling. He didn’t quite know what he was doing, didn’t know if it was the right moment, the right time –

She kissed him again. Quickly, coming closer. Again. He didn’t mind. He couldn’t think. His hand wandered from her cheek to her shoulders to her waist, getting her as close as possible. He grew bolder, finding himself holding her in place as the kisses became longer, tasting her lips, the corners of her mouth, her lips again. There was a small sound catching in her throat, and it made him press her even closer against him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, a soft sigh escaping her when he attempted to taste every part of her mouth.

He almost became lightheaded. From the way her fingers dragged through his hair, the way her nails pressed against his skin with every sound he drew from her. Her scent, fresh and sweet like flowers, her voice, silky against the dark thoughts constantly lingering in the back of his mind. Nothing was as important as her, not now. Nothing could heal him like her.

“I missed you,” he managed to whisper.

She trembled under his hands. “I missed you too,” she said, even though she had said it before, and she kissed his cheek and his ear and told him again. “God. I missed you.”

It was enough. She was back and it was enough. He thought about it, about the faces her old friends would make. Tifa’s reaction and Yuffie’s. The tears Barret certainly would have to hide. He thought about his future, something he hadn’t dared for so long. She kept pressing kisses against his skin, to his temples, her arms still wrapped around his neck, and she stopped and leaned her forehead against his.

“I’m looking forward to seeing them, too,” she said.

Of course. She didn’t even know Reeve yet. He’d told Cloud often enough – all the regret he felt for never being able to look Aerith in the eyes and tell her that he was sorry. It was a thought Cloud understood all too well.

“Don’t be sorry,” she whispered. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

But he was. And he would always be. Even if she was back and even if she was alive and even if the others would see her and help her build a future, for herself, with him, it didn’t matter. Even then – the guilt wouldn’t go away. Never.

“Don’t,” she repeated, pressing her hands against his cheeks. “Don’t.”

He hadn’t known what those feelings were. He hadn’t had the chance to explore them. The warmth he felt because of her words. How his heart sped up because of her smile. There was no way to tell what could have been.

“Do you think you could tell now?”

He might. It would take time, but he might.

“Do you think you would be happier then?”

With her?

“With me.”

Of course. Of course, because then he wouldn’t have to constantly think about it, about this little monster sitting in the back of his mind, about all those ‘what if’s, because then she’d be by his side. A future for the two of them. Anything sounded less scary than the thought of being alone. The thought of knowing that he was not only responsible for destroying his own life, but hers too. Utterly and irreversibly.

“Cloud. There you are.”

Her voice cut through the silence, the worried undertone unable to ignore. A light breeze danced over his skin and through his hair. He stared at the sky, the early evening painting it orange, his hands buried in his pockets. It took a while until Tifa reached him. She followed his gaze before giving a sigh.

“It’s getting late. We’ve already had dinner.”

He should have been thankful. He was, to some degree. He had to. There was nothing else left, after all.

“So,” Tifa continued, her slight nervousness apparent in the way she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Thinking about the past again, are you? The only good memories I have of this place are of Marlene. Playing games with her until Barret was home, reading books with her, that stuff.”

It was cold. Cloud shivered and tried to look at her. Tifa didn’t seem as tired and worn out as she used to. He wished he could feel the same. He wished it would be easier to just let things happen.

It could have been be so simple. If miracles would happen, there’d be no need to worry. Then she would be back and with him and they would have enough time to do anything they’d missed out on. But Midgar was destroyed, nothing but a pile of ashes, and there was only one choice: to let it rot or to build something new on the ground the city had left behind.

“It could be a lot worse,” Tifa said after some time. “I guess anything is better than the old Midgar, don’t you think?”

“There were some good sides to it.”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, her words a mere whisper, a thought she might have never said out loud before. “Sometimes I also wonder how things would be. If she was still alive, I mean.”

He couldn’t help but smile. It felt a bit foreign on his lips. “She’d find a way to cheer everyone up. Even Cid.”

“Even you,” Tifa laughed.

They looked at each other. Her laugh faded into an apologetic grimace. With a snort he patted her arm and moved away from the evening sun. Sector Seven was nothing but ruins. Who knew if it would ever be rebuilt at all. Who knew which memories would have to be buried forever. Who knew what could have happened, or would have happened, or would happen. But there would be another Midgar, sooner or later.

“I’m hungry,” he said, sending Tifa a look.

She exhaled audibly. “Well, we’ve got some leftovers. But if I wouldn’t have had to search for you …”

“I just needed to think.”

“About?”

He didn’t answer. She didn’t ask again.


End file.
